The Unexpected
by Doctor Who's Lost Companion
Summary: Back at 221B, Scotland Yard's reliable men experience something very new and different... John: RPer Sherlock: DWLC


**The Unexpected**

_Hallo...you are so jokes? __-SH_

_ Sherlock, I've been watching Vlogbrothers longer than you have. In fact, I introduced them to you and deserve some credit. __-JW_

_Ah John, yes, yes why not. __-SH_

_ Thank you. I'm proud to have gotten you to sit still long enough to enjoy them. __-JW_

_I recently read the book, did you take it from me? __-SH_

_Which book? __-JW_

_TFiOS. Also going to market. Need anything? __-SH_

_Ah, yes, I picked it up off of you when you fell asleep in the chair last night. Check the bookcase again. As for the market, I'd like some jam. __-JW_

_ Ok, jam it is. I think I might buy some Jammy Doggers too... __-SH_

Entering the market Sherlock picks out the items, has a row with the machine 'Now I understand!' and hails another taxi. Meanwhile John picks up the flat a bit and when done he studies the bookcase. Picking up John Green's The Fault in our Stars he staggers over to his chair, sitting comfortably when he notices the dog-ear bookmarking style of Sherlock and is sure to leave it be. Back in the cab Sherlock is engulfed within his Mind Palace, reviewing the events of the previous night. He remembered how they both came home, exhausted from chasing a jewel thief, and retiring to the flat with relief. After a shower he collapsed on the sofa, laying himself out to read the book while John watched telly. His thoughts are interrupted when the cabbie stops, so begrudgingly Sherlock pays the fare. Bags in hand he enters 221 B, climbing the stairs-

"I understand now why you and the machines do not get along!"

Entering the living room Sherlock finds John has practically jumped out of his skin, clearly startled.

"Sherlock? What's that? What happened now?" slurs the sleepy John.

The odd reaction causes suspicion, Sherlock quickly approaches him, leaning over into his space and analyzing. John backs further into his chair, now fully awake.

"Ah,sleeping...napping..." he murmurs, then a wink, "So John, dinner? What do you want?"

John relaxes with a tilt of his head and replying with a smirk when Sherlock moves away. He strides into the kitchen setting down the bags and back in the living room to hang his coat and scarf.

"Mm, well. Whatever you desire to make, I guess. What's the occasion? You never cook for us. For yourself, really."

"Well...I just want to", Sherlock says coolly, walking back to the kitchen.

Picking himself up John follows him inside and sits down at the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright, carry on then. What are you making?"

"Not gonna be ready for awhile."

"Ah, okay."

"Want to be surprised? Or do you trust me?" Sherlock rushes.

"Sure. Y-yes, both."

"Good."

Ending the note on a smirk, Sherlock heats the oven, preps the microwave, and chooses some dishes. There is a bit of clattering for he is not gracious, yet he can manage. The noise is heard in the living room causing John to laugh slightly at the sight of a domestic Mr. Holmes and walks over to the sink to help him with a few dishes.

"Bit nervous, are we?"

Sheepishly. "Hey, get out my kitchen! Haha and _no_ not nervous...Be ready in another fifteen ok?"

"Alright, alright!" Throwing his hands in the air, laughing. "I'm going to head to my room and change. I put these old running pants on after work and now I feel a bit underdressed." Walking out of the kitchen, towards his room he yells, "Don't burn anything! Mrs. Hudson would have a fit if the alarm gets set off again."

Sherlock chuckles and continues with his work, careful not to spill anything on his favorite purple shirt. He dabbles, heats, stirs, and a few minutes pass. Is ready! So he sets two plates down, utensils, wine glasses.

"John, dinner!" he calls.

Meanwhile John stands in the mirror, nitpicking his outfit choices. Notices how he keeps biting his nails and makes a note to stop doing that. He hears Sherlock calling, jumping a bit. "Yes, dear, coming!" Giggling to himself and wonders why he is using terms of endearment. Sherlock rolls his eyes, 'He is very cheery today'.

"Don't keep doing that, mate. Soon your eyes will stay like that" John winks and sits down at the table. "Well. Isn't this nice?"

Sherlock freezes for a moment, one of John's good suites, the only other time he saw him in something special was for _his_/ funeral, but he quickly shakes the thought away.

"Appetizer! Custard" placing saucer in the middle, "And fish fingers!" Pulling them out of the oven and placing a few on each plate. "No, nothing is burned."

"Ah, interesting choices. Very good! I'm impressed." Watching Sherlock serve the food and gets a bit distracted. Putting the pan in the sink, then Sherlock opens the cabinet.

"This too" fine red wine, filling their glasses to half full as John eyes the glass up, and takes a swig as Sherlock finishes pouring. "Nice touch. I needed this.

Seating himself, "Same." Light sips, helping himself to a finger, "Tough day at the doctor office?"

"Exhausting, really. Bit of the flu going around. Just tedious and tiring work. I didn't even realize I had been so tired until I came home and sat down." John helps himself to the food, devouring it. "This is quite good, Sherlock."

"Understandable and yes I am that good."

"What did you do today?" John inquires as he refills his wine glass and takes a few small sips. Sherlock drinking most of his.

"Hm, told off Anderson, pick pocketed Lestrade...had a row with the machine!"

"Ah, the damn machine!" John laughs quietly, and sighs into a smile.

Sherlock laughs heartily, eating his last fish finger, dabbing it in the custard. Watching John eat another he begins to chuckle more.

"John you have a little…" poking the corner of his own mouth.

"Hmmm?"

"A bit of custard...No there! O for god sakes!" Sherlock stands so he could lean over very close, noses almost touching when he wipes the custard away with his thumb.

"What? Ah- Sherlock- wha?" He instinctively places his hands on Sherlock's hips as he too stands up suddenly. "Erm...thank you. *he turns a bit red and shifts in his seat. Sherlock having not moved, slowly raises his thumb to his mouth, sucking on the custard thoughtfully.

"Main course is ready..." he whispers, licking his thumb.

"Yes, right" John's voice quivered as he watched Sherlock suck his thumb clean.

Turning around, Sherlock takes the simmering pot and large spoon, scooping spaghetti on John's plate and then his own and with the other pot, he dribbled some vodka sauce on his and some on John's pasta.

"More?"

"No, this is good, thanks. My favorite."

"Excellent" breathing with relief as he sat down, then pouring himself his second half glass, "More of this?"

"Of the wine, yes." John smiles and hands his glass over, while twirling his fork into the spaghetti and taking a bit, "This is delicious!"

"Hm, growing up, the maids did everything, cooking wise too. When I was terribly bored I would sneak in the kitchen and watch them cook. I wanted to learn the science of it. Eventually one maid allowed me to help with some of the simple dishes, most likely because she liked me more because Mycroft was always stealing the sweets and desserts."

Still recovering from before, John nods, while listening, and continues to eat. It becomes messy and he wipes his napkin across his face. "Ah, Mycroft…" laughing slightly, as he drinks a swig of wine. While Sherlock began to indulge in his art work and sipping wine, a quiet falls between the two, but it is not awkward. Just a simple silence shared in the peace. Then again a question is nagging Sherlock throughout the meal until he sighs, finishing what is left on his plate. On the other side of the table John set his fork down and dusts off the crumbs that had fallen to his pants. He had acknowledged Sherlock's silence, waiting patiently for him to go in exposition about one case or another. Instead he saw the detective's eyes focusing on something far off, not of this world.

"You look perplexed. Go on with it, now."

"John..." draining his glass and starting slowly.

"What was that before?" Raising an eyebrow smiling cheekily.

"SShhherrlooockk..." laughs to himself, feeling himself become a bit drunk.

"Jawwwwwwwwwn." Teasing back.

"Oh, um, hmm. What are you referring to?"

Sherlock leans forward, hands together in his deducing position, slyly smiling and watching him with interest.

"Just before, you remember, don't lie."

John begins to feel a bit woozy, but its pleasant. He closes his eyes and opens them to find Sherlock staring.

"Hah, well, _dear…_"

"O god not that "dear" again" Sherlock smiling fondly at his drunk small Doctor.

"What can I say? You're my pet" using emphasis on the 't'. John pushes his feet to the ground to stand and gather their dishes. "Dinner was lovely, Sherlock. Really was." Though he teeters a bit, giggles and places dishes in the sink, starting to run hot water. Sherlock nods his head and releases another thoughtful sigh.

"Ah, stop that sighing. What are you thinking about?"

Walking behind John he places his hands on top of his, holding him on the rails of the sink, towering over him, so he moves his head slightly down.

"You never answered my question John" Sherlock says coolly from behind, almost talking into the back of John's.

"Answering questions, hmm. Not my division, really" John answers with a laughs, almost uncontrollably. "Oh, dear Sherlock. I'm afraid I'm a bit under the table."

"No, I think you are over the sink. Come on what are you hiding?" he hisses into John's ear. Sensing tension in Sherlock, he frowns a bit, and leans against the counter.

"I don't know. I mean, I know, but I-" starting to notice the breath on his neck, he shudders slightly, "What do you want from me? What do you expect? I- I..." Getting a bit worked up, John pushes Sherlock aside and starts to pace.

"You left, you were gone, I thought you had died, you know. I watched it happen. I will never be the same. And you're here, in our kitchen, making dinner…I-… just, you're so bloody gorgeous, Sherlock. Really. Intelligent and different and I-..I mean, how could I- how could YOU" Stubs his toe on a chair, huffing wildly. "Oh for FUCK'S sake!"

Sherlock's face frowns, not expecting John to have shoved him as such.

"Sorry I was not trying to make you upset. Here, sit." Commandingly. Instead John crosses his arms, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"No. I don't want to. I'm fine."

Taking a few steps to him Sherlock easily, but lightly pushes John into the chair, to which he falls suddenly, legs having no strength in them. Crouching down, Sherlock takes off John's shoe and sock*

"Well, guess I don't have much of a choice then...do I... Ay, what are you doing down there?" Squirming his foot around.

"Sorry I sometimes don't know my own strength when I had a few. Good no stubbed toe nail. They are the worst and having a cut underneath, most unpleasant."

"I know. I can feel. I'm a doctor."

Feeling better, realizing the John's drunkenness, he chuckles and John pouts at him, insisting on acting like a child.

" 'Trust me, I'm a Doctor.' " Sherlock quoted, watching his friend smile through the tantrum.

"Well, I am!"

"All good." Sherlock sang patting the foot lightly and slipping on his sock. He twitches at the touch of Sherlock's cold hands.

"Your hands are so cold" he said innocently.

"Doctor's hands?" Grabbing John's hands, "Not yours though…" puzzled, he looks all around them, turning them over in inspection.

"I'm always warm." John answers, removing his hands from Sherlock's, and cups them around Sherlock's face. Sherlock heart jumps into his throat, he struggles to say something, if there is anything to be said.

"John..."

"Sherlock. Dear, dear Sherlock."

"Yes, Watson?"

Hearing this, his face twists into a sad expression as his chest aches slightly in disappointment.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked softly, moving his right hand to hold John's cheek and straightening up so they are eye level. Face in hand, John nuzzles into it and whispers very quietly.

"I…I love you."

Now, Sherlock begins to feel warm inside, a happiness spilling over into a smile.

"Finally..." he said as he leaned in. Instead John jerks up.

"Finally? Bloody finally! Sherlock...I-what?"

"I did not want to push you John. Like before by the sink…" his eyes feel in panic, scared. In reaction John stops his flustering.

"You knew?"

"A guess..."

"A deduction."

"Mhm." Biting on his lip as he gave a slight nod. John finds himself in a snort and laughs heartily. Hearing him Sherlock's muscles relax and he stands up, leaning against the wall, hands in pocket.

"Well, so. There's that." John states.

"Now it's fact. I rely on facts. I like facts."

"I rely on...liquor. Wine. I like wine."

"Why do you think I picked it John?" You see but do not observe...again" smirking.

"You got me drunk so I would tell you I loved you! Like I'm a bloody teenager or something" in a laugh at his own silliness.

"No, that was your choice."

"How could I resist?"

"Just shut up." Sherlock stretching out his arms, roughly pulls John to him and slipping his tongue against his mouth. "Uof" John manages as his face smashes onto Sherlock's, but easily he smiles and kisses him back, tenderly. He places his hands on Sherlock's hips and grinds slightly, shifting into a comfortable position.

"Better idea." Moving away from John, yet gripping him by the wrist. Meanwhile the captured companion almost trips, trying to adjust his trousers.

"Where to now?"

Without an answer Sherlock pulls him to the sofa, directing John underneath him and his hand cradling behind John's head. A wandering hand slips underneath Sherlock's shirt. "Evening" John chuckles and pulls Sherlock into a deep kiss, biting on his lower lip slightly. A shock rips through his body, slipping his tongue again in John's mouth and then lifting him up slightly, he slips the blazer off, tossing it in some direction. Still not breaking away from John he enjoys removing John's silky tie, allowing his hands enjoy the moment. John arches his back to make it easier for Sherlock. He takes a chance and slips his hand past Sherlock's navel and traces the area above his waistband. Sherlock takes in a sharp breath, all these sensations where so new, so responsive. He pushes John back down lightly and starts with each button while he shifts his head, resting his forehead on John's shoulder, nuzzling his teeth against John's neck. John growls and begins to undo Sherlock's pants, hastily and not very successfully. He sighs heavily and pushes Sherlock up until they're both kneeling in front of each other, where he's able to get at his pants. He takes them off and gives Sherlock a quick wink and a chuckle.

"Hey" Sherlock snarls shoving John back down.

"Yeah?" grinning in pleasure and feels the weight of Sherlock on top of him.

"I am not done." Sherlock says coolly, teething lightly on John's skin and fiddling with the last button, he pulls the shirt open, finding the body underneath it. His eyes find the scar from the war still on the shoulder...it fascinated him.

"I always wanted to see this." Sherlock murmurs, carefully running his tongue over the scar tissue. He feels John nod his head and sigh.

"I do catch you staring at it. I mean I- Oh. Ohh…" he bucks his hips instinctively. Sherlock grins into John's skin, as he oppresses John's hips with his own.

"Dodgy hm?"

"Just-… a bit sensitive" as John moves his hands, he accidentally brushes against the front of Sherlock's underwear.

"Happy to see me?"

"Yeah you are too." At first his finger tracing John's thigh only to throw his hands on him and hold tightly. "See."

John jolts and nods again. "Well yes, you are right." He grabs Sherlock by the waistband and pulls down. "Hmm..." he continues sliding his hands onto Sherlock's cock and smiles, "Now what?" An explosion of sensation ripples through him, causing Sherlock to bolt up onto his knees and his arm grab the back of the couch for support.

"Sorry, are you okay?" John now propping himself up on his elbows.

"I'm..." catching his breath, "good…"

"Jesus, Sherlock. You look positively wrecked." He leans up to meet Sherlock's chest, and presses a few small kisses to his collarbone before wrapping his arms around him and pushing him on his back.

"There, there." He twirls a hand into Sherlock's curls and rocks his hips back and forth slightly. Gulping hard, some noise escapes Sherlock's mouth. A small whimper.

"We don't have to do anything, you know. Just being with you like this is nice. I've always wanted this." John says slowly tracing circles into Sherlock's lower back.

"John..." gripping the back of his hair. "Once you start something, you should always finish it." He shifts at Sherlock's words.

"I'm glad you feel that way." Kissing him, he moves his hands lower and traces lines over Sherlock's hip bones as Sherlock groans. 'John's fingers are made of magic' he stupidly deduces. Grinning, he wraps a hand tightly around Sherlock's cock and begins to stroke. "This good?"

Almost gasping for air "Yes...John...y-y- you have..."

"Have what?" He massages Sherlock, and grinds against him, after speaking, he begins to suck a small spot into Sherlock's neck. "Go on."

"No...Idea...forgot…" Sherlock breathes through his gritted teeth, he feels his eyes change and shift. Moving his hand to John's side, he slowly drags his nails along. And feeling Sherlock tense up, he switches positions so he can get a better angle as Sherlock leaks a bit. Turning around, he straddles Sherlock's body as John thumbs Sherlock's head and tastes it, smirking as he works both hands around Sherlock. Sherlock squirms a little underneath him, gripping John's ankles, eyes closed shut as he takes in John's tongue. For a moment he is able to look though John's legs, watching in interest. Flicking a tongue across the head of Sherlock's cock, John reaches down to stroke himself.

"Sherlock, 'fraid I can't keep this up much longer. I'm close myself." He takes more of Sherlock in his mouth, enjoying himself thoroughly. Sherlock has no control now, every muscle screams in pleasure, he writhes underneath John, feeling the buildup.

"Jawn...I want to help" gulping air until his moans drown him out.

"Like that..Yes." Hearing Sherlock voice is his pleasure, forcing him to spills all over Sherlock and rests his head on Sherlock's hip, continually stroking him. Sherlock bucks his hips up and his whimpering intensifies.

"O god, John."

"Sherlock."

He heard John say his name and as he arches his back he grips the bottom of the sofa as if his life counted on it.

That's right..Like that, Sherlock.

It was so wonderful being in John's mouth, his tongue slipping around drove him crazy.

"Damn it John..." Sherlock's body finally gave in, cumming on John's mouth as he felt him swallow it and licking him clean. Turning himself around again, John wraps Sherlock in his arms, nuzzling into hips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Please" panting, "turn around..."

"O-okay? Alright." Turning around slowly. Sherlock grabs John's dog tags, pulling him to him.

"Love you too."

John manages to grins sheepishly, and huffs a bit of laughter. Pulling him down all the way, Sherlock manages to kiss him with passion and John reciprocates

"What a night, yea?" John's laugh vibrated his body against Sherlock, who unconsciously, slightly bucks his hips up again.

"Oh, another go again?" John smirks and arches his hips to meet Sherlock's.

"Well- ….trying to say was…that was the most amazing thing I felt...ever" beaming at John, "Thank you..."

"Likewise dear."


End file.
